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Plants just stand there, right? Doing nothing all day and all night long? Unmoving and unmoved, stolid and solid?
Marie would be horrified to hear those words. No, no, no, she would insist, shaking her head and flicking her ears in that characteristic way of hers. And then she would give a tour of her garden.
Look at the bucket orchid. Such a large flower, with a bucket filled with water. Bees fall into the bucket, and when climbing out, are brushed with pollen, so that they are forced to pollinate the flowers. How devious, Marie flicks her ears in disapproval. How dishonest. Poor bee. If she could, she would hug the bee and give it a mug of cocoa, to make up for the indignities it has endured.
Now, look at the touch-me-not. Tiny and unassuming, blending in with the grass on the ground. It has many tinier leaflets that fold up the moment it receives the slightest touch. How timid, Marie sniffs as she stands guard over the little plant. How shy. Poor leaves. If she could, she would give every single one of them their own little hut to protect them from creepy-crawlies and curious paws.
Then, look at the titan arum. It is gigantic, taller even than the tallest man. It takes a decade before it finally blooms, but when it does, people wrinkle their noses in disgust at its putrefying smell. How mean, Marie shakes her head as she inhales deeply. How cruel. Poor flower. If she could, she would find all the titan arums in the world and tell them, they are loved so very much, regardless of how they smell.
Finally, look at the one who tends these plants with utmost care. Her soft glistening fur, a lush gradient of purple and pink, enough to elicit envy from the prettiest flowers. Her lovely eyes, bright with delight and radiant with joyfulness, enough to outshine the all the stars in the sky put together. Her low melodious voice, as enchanting as a lullaby, enough to put to shame the finest harps and lyres in all of history. And, of course, her heart, wider than the ocean and as tender as can be. It is filled with all the unloved plants and sad insects and lonely puppies and helpless infants - bursting with fullness, yet with space enough for everyone.
It is the most beautiful, ravishing, gorgeous garden of all, right?
Marie would be horrified to hear those words. No, no, no, she would insist, shaking her head and flicking her ears in that characteristic way of hers. And then she would give a tour of her garden.
Look at the bucket orchid. Such a large flower, with a bucket filled with water. Bees fall into the bucket, and when climbing out, are brushed with pollen, so that they are forced to pollinate the flowers. How devious, Marie flicks her ears in disapproval. How dishonest. Poor bee. If she could, she would hug the bee and give it a mug of cocoa, to make up for the indignities it has endured.
Now, look at the touch-me-not. Tiny and unassuming, blending in with the grass on the ground. It has many tinier leaflets that fold up the moment it receives the slightest touch. How timid, Marie sniffs as she stands guard over the little plant. How shy. Poor leaves. If she could, she would give every single one of them their own little hut to protect them from creepy-crawlies and curious paws.
Then, look at the titan arum. It is gigantic, taller even than the tallest man. It takes a decade before it finally blooms, but when it does, people wrinkle their noses in disgust at its putrefying smell. How mean, Marie shakes her head as she inhales deeply. How cruel. Poor flower. If she could, she would find all the titan arums in the world and tell them, they are loved so very much, regardless of how they smell.
Finally, look at the one who tends these plants with utmost care. Her soft glistening fur, a lush gradient of purple and pink, enough to elicit envy from the prettiest flowers. Her lovely eyes, bright with delight and radiant with joyfulness, enough to outshine the all the stars in the sky put together. Her low melodious voice, as enchanting as a lullaby, enough to put to shame the finest harps and lyres in all of history. And, of course, her heart, wider than the ocean and as tender as can be. It is filled with all the unloved plants and sad insects and lonely puppies and helpless infants - bursting with fullness, yet with space enough for everyone.
It is the most beautiful, ravishing, gorgeous garden of all, right?
Written by Tar #1249086
reselling: yes
trading: yes
breeding: yes
trading: yes
breeding: yes